


Do you believe in magic?

by OctopusVulgaris



Series: Achievement Unlocked - Supernatural Abilities AU [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4458863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctopusVulgaris/pseuds/OctopusVulgaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That is the tenth demon summoning this week holy shit.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a list of prompts on Tumblr and so I drabbled.
> 
> I haven't drabbled in a while so let's see how this goes.
> 
> An AU where magic and supernatural happenings are pretty normal and all your faves are asexual and or trans. Also because of the overall magical energies that pretty much everyone can feel, when you formally meet someone you learn their pronouns and name and vice verse. (This AU will probably only exist in drabble form and not be added to linearly)
> 
> Also I dabble very lightly in pagan religions and their teachings so probably a lot of this is wrong but I'm not here to be informative.

Michael didn’t hate his apartment complex. The landlord was pretty chill and though more than half of his neighbors fell into the category of supernatural slash dabbled in the occult and he found his balcony on fire at least once a month, he didn’t mind living here.

But whatever motherfucker that lived in number 3B was about to make him blow his brains out. He never met the person, they moved in after he did and managed to move in all of their stuff and establish themselves as some kind of shut in all while Michael was at work. That was a few months ago and Michael had been able to figure out that they had to be some sort of low magic user dabbling in some shit they weren’t supposed to be dabbling in. Michael’s lost track of how many safety and protective sigils he had to use in the first month of having his new neighbor and everything was going alright until the jackass took up summoning fucking spirits. And so many in so little time!

Monday started with the smoke alarm going off at 5 AM and the faint smell of sulfur in the air. When he’d returned home from work the same day, he was informed by this landlord that there was a small fire on his balcony that was quickly reversed though the smell of burnt wood may still be lingering around. And it just escalated from that point to now, fucking Thursday, when he had to quickly shoo Gavin out of his apartment because he kept gagging every time he opened his mouth form the smell of the damn sulfur. Once Michael sent Gavin on his way with a cleansing spell and a plan to meet up the next week at a bar, he marched back up to the third floor to give the asshole next door a piece of his mind.

He rang the doorbell, probably more times than necessary, and once the door opened the slightest bit he just let loose. “That is the tenth demon summoning this week HOLY SHIT dude! I know magic and the occult is interesting but just take it down a notch, alright? Some of us have lives to live and can’t handle having their appliances act up and everything they own reeking of rotten fucking eggs!”

“Uh….Sorry?” 

“And are you wearing a fucking robe? What the fuck?” And indeed his neighbor was wearing a black robe that could probably be found at a Party City. It’s not like it looked bad on them, it fit his neighbors broad frame fairly well except that it was about one and a half feet too short and they had the hood up. But it allowed for a good look at their bunny slippers.

“Uh, it helps with the atmosphere and I like it?”

“You look like a dementor. But like, one that would get picked on by the other dementors.”

“I mean, you don’t have to be so mean about it,” they say, voice low and with a sad tone in it. But the hood comes off none the less and shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes rimmed in what can only be categorized as typical dad glasses emerged from the hoods darkness.

Michael had something else to say but it died on the tip of his tongue. What happened could not at all be described as hearing a choir of angels singing in the background but Michael swears that the world stopped for about 20 seconds.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine. Do you realize that your entire apartment smells like shit, right now?”

“I have some fans blowing and I’m burning a few scented candles.”

“Okay so blow those out and come with me.” His neighbor nods and does what he says and Michael waits in the in between space between their doors. When the neighbor reemerges Michael more or less drags him into his apartment and locks the door behind him. He draws a privacy sigil on the door and lets out a sigh. He turns to his, now very confused, neighbor and sticks his hand out. “My name is Michael.”

“Ryan.” They take his hand, still looking inquisitively at Michael. “Not that I’m not flattered or anything, but why did you bring me into your apartment? It’s very nice looking but I’m confused.” Michael let’s go of his hand and leads Ryan to his kitchen. He moves to one of his cabinets and grabs a small fabric bag.

“Names have power and I didn't want you to get snatched by faeries or something after introducing yourself in our very public hallway.” Ryan very quickly looks bashful and starts to blush.

“I didn’t think about that. I’m kinda new to this whole ‘doing magic on purpose’ thing.”

“I mean, we all start somewhere. Though what is with the summoning? That’s some serious shit and I’m surprised you’re still in tact.”

“I got a spell book from a friend but I keep flubbing the chants. So far nothings stuck around for too long, except the sulfur smell.”

“Okay so you may want to return that book so your stop accidentally or purposefully summoning evil into this apartment complex. I have a cleansing spell for you,” he hands Ryan the fabric pouch. “This should not only help take care of the smell but also get rid of any evil energies hanging around.”

“Thanks again. And I’ll probably stick to less…dangerous spell work. Also sorry for your balcony and…everything…yeah.”

“Eh,” Michael shrugged “You can make it up to me over coffee.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a grocery date happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look it's almost Halloween
> 
> Which means more of this nonsense AU

Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? Where the fuck is it? “Oh god dammit” He was completely out of cinnamon. “Ray!”

“No,” Ray deadpanned, not even looking up from his handheld game.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I’m not going to the store for you.”

“Fuck you, you clairvoyant fuck. And why don’t you use your powers for good instead of being a lazy piece of shit?”

“I like being a lazy piece of shit.”

“You could go to the store with me?”

“Ask your hot witch neighbor dude. Aren’t you two dating or having sex or whatever?”

“We got coffee once and I wrote down some spells for him. Also I don't think he's a witch.”

“Whatever. So you’re not official.”

“What do you care mister ‘I’m too busy completing every game that’s ever been published to have a serious relationship for more than 12 hours’? Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“I’m your wingman, Captain ‘tiptoes around his own feelings and won’t grow a pair’.”

“Low blow.”

“You know what I mean. Besides, you’ll get a chance to talk to him again and maybe you’ll, ya know, get head out of the deal or something.”

“You’re so vulgar and disgusting.” Michael’s doorbell went off and he hoped it wasn’t some other old lady looking to deplete his spice cabinet. When he answered the door, Ryan was on the other side, looking more or less like a normal person except for the party store witch hat on his head.

“Nice hat.”

“I lost a bet.” It took Michael about 8 seconds to realize he was staring. God that shirt fit him well.

“Um do you happen to have any cinnamon?"

“Nope,” Michael says, leaning against the door frame. “Mrs. Sanchez took the last of my stash to make snickerdoodles.”

“Oh. Uh, is there something I can use instead of cinnamon for this luck spell? I seem to not have bought any recently.”

“There are actually a lot of spices you could use for luck instead of cinnamon. Cloves and allspice work. Also fennel-”

“Wait. Michael. Don’t you also have to go to the store and buy cinnamon as well?”

“Why the fuck are you annunciating every single syllable?”

“Is now a bad time?”

“No. Ray’s just a piece of shit.”

“Hi. I’m Michael’s best friend.”

“Hi, I’m Ryan." He waved and Ray managed a half wave, still tapping at buttons.

“I know. Michael thinks you’re hot.”

“Oh, can you, um,-”

“Untwist your boxer briefs, I can’t read minds. I can see the future. Michael just can’t shut about your big-”

“Actually that was a great suggestion, Ray. Ryan how about we go to the store together.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mean to intrude.”

“Ray just comes over to eat my food he’ll be fine while we’re gone.”

“Oh, uh, okay."

"Do you just need cinnamon? Or do you have like a list or something?"

"Oh! Hold on!" Ryan ran back up to the third floor and Michael turned to Ray who gave him a thumbs up, still working on the game in his hand and having not looked up once.

"I hate you."

"Go get your dick sucked, champ."

Michael locked the door to his apartment behind him and waited for Ryan to come back down so they could leave. Ryan returned quickly and out of breath.

"Are you okay? You're breathing pretty hard there dude."

"I'll be fine. Let's go."

The walk to the grocery store was about a good twenty minute walk. In that time they talked - Michael mostly explaining that Ray was the most useless clairvoyant he's ever met and that they've been best friends for years. Ryan talked a little bit about the spell he was working on.

"I've never done a luck spell before but I think I got the hang of this one."

"Luck spells are pretty basic. As long as you're focused you can get a way with a passive spell. Is it one of the spells I copied down for you?"

"I actually got this one from a friend."

"Hopefully it works out better than those others," Michael says, referring to what he's been calling  **Hell Week.**

"I'm being way safer and not summoning anymore demons and spirits."

"That's good. Though I do know an exorcist, I can put you in touch with."

"Is he a priest?"

"He is the exact opposite of a priest," Michael says as they approach the doors to the grocery store. "The day that Geoff becomes a priest, it'll be the end of the world." Michael leads Ryan towards the spice section of the store, waving casually to the clerks at the front. Looking at all of the spices he grabs the two large containers of salt and two large containers of cinnamon. He turns to Ryan and sees that he's grabbed some miscellaneous herbs and spices in much smaller containers. "You're gonna need more than that, dude."

"You think so? The spell didn't look like it needed a whole bunch of stuff."

"Yeah. But rosemary's good in everything. Also by getting the bigger size, you won't have to go the store that often and it's cheaper to get the medium size instead of two smalls."

"You have a point. But that's a lot of salt and a lot of cinnamon. I'll never use that much."

"First of all, you can never have enough salt. Second, fuck you cinnamon is delicious. Whatever you don't use in your spell you can just toss into smoothies and shit."

"Do I look like a 'smoothie' guy?"

"Everyone likes smoothies," Michael says, walking towards the checkstand. He sets the items he's carrying on the conveyer belt and Ryan sets his stuff behind him, with a divider separating. He reaches to grab one of the containers of salt and Michael swats his hand away.

"I can buy my own salt."

"I'm sure you can. Consider this my monthly good deed." Michael pays and stands to the side, waiting for Ryan. When they both have their bags, they head back to their complex, this time in silence. When they reach Michael's second floor apartment, there's a sticky note on his door.

 _Mrs. Sanchez brought over cookies. I took my share and bounced. See you next week. You're welcome._ Piece of shit.

"Do you wanna come in for coffee? Mrs. Sanchez bakes a mean snickerdoodle and it goes great with a latte."

"Sure." They walked into Michael's apartment and there on the counter was a plate of cookies with a little note attached. Michael picked up the note to read it and immediately threw it into the trash can under his sink.

In slanted cursive lettering, the note read _Good luck, boy. ;)_

**Author's Note:**

> currently taking prompt requests at z-for-lazerteam.tumblr.com


End file.
